


I Promise

by Youholdmenow



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youholdmenow/pseuds/Youholdmenow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was captivating and took her breath away, from head to toe, from the inside and out. (Camren)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Different

I remember, seeing her, fidget with her fingers as she awaited to be called onto the stage. Her head was lowered, concentrating on nothing, but her fingers. I never got a good look of the color of her eyes. But I remember feeling my stomach churn inside of me, her mere existence so close to be, causing heart palpitations, that I could not control or contain. Her blue sleeveless blouse cascaded down from her shoulders, covering her skin tight blue jeans slightly. My breathing hitched every time the gaze of my eyes had averted to the beauty that sat in front of me, a mere few feet. I couldn't help it, my wandering eyes automatically toward the presence of the angel.

"Lauren Jauregui," one of the crew workers said, calling for her, "The judges are ready for you." I look up, as I see her rise from her seat, walking toward the steps, only to turn around, meeting my eyes, and gave me a small smile, and waved to me, before turning back around and heading up the steps, to the stage. I close my eyes, as I felt everything slow and begin to slur together in the world. Everything except for my heartbeat.

She was different, from the first day I met her. The way her captivating eyes stared into mine, boring into my soul, everytime we exchanged words. Her eyes were one of nature's phenomenons, the mixture of light colors that blended so well, for the swirl that was her eye color. Sometimes, they changed color, making staring at them for hours seeming quite important, noting the precise detail of colors into my mind, etching those unforgettable eyes themselves into it, overtaking the main priorities that once consumed my mind, replacing all with her.

Her lips were a delicate piece of her, fragile even. It spoke the thoughts that raced in her mind, maybe even consumed it, like the thoughts of her did with mine. But sometimes, they weren't the thoughts people wanted to hear, but I would have listened to her voice her thoughts for eternity, if that meant having heard her voice for eternity, being in the presence of her. They were dark, sometimes very heartbreaking, to know that such youth like her has been corrupted for so long. She was only a mere sixteen year old, but the words she spoke could have came from someone twice her age.

Her voice was a blessing. Everyday, I thank the heavens, I thank whatever God that is out there, for giving me the opportunity to hear her voice so very often. It rung in my ears, seconds, minutes, hours, even days after hearing her raspy tone. It was a voice that did not need to sing, but could have talked you to sleep, because of the serenity it excludes alone. I turn to her, in a time of apprehension or fear, not only because of the wise words the fall from her lips automatically, the soothing tone of her voice that already leaves me in a state of calmness, a free state of mind.

Her personality was beyond describable sometimes. She came off as very outspoken, but also aggressive, to the ones who threaten her, her family, and her friends. Some people forget she, herself, is still a teenage, growing, learning. Life as she knew it, as we all knew it, was flipped around from what we were used to, and all this, as just thrown at us in a matter of days.

I remember walking into the hotel room she shared with Normani and Dinah, as the two others parted their ways from her, and left to enjoy time as a night tourist with Ally. I heard things, that I could never forget. I saw things, that made my heart break in two, maybe more. She had always been the strong one, that we forget that she can be weak to. It's just a matter of, who would be strong for her. The answer then was no one.

I knew sometimes that her happiness was faked, you could tell, anyone could. But it was a matter of how many days she had to fake it. My mother told me, when I was young, that we were all allowed to feel our emotions. If we were allowed to, then why do we fake happiness? In the position we are in, we are allowed to feel our emotions, but only certain ones.

I found her, in such a fragile state, everything I knew of her was questioned. I remembered being unable to move from the doorway for minutes, being frozen to look at her brokenness for a great length of time. She looked like she was alive at least, but barely.

"Camz?," I remembered her saying, that word alone questioning my presence there at the moment, "It's not what it looks like. I promise." Then, I had a closer look at the painful disaster that was in front of me. I saw her, lying helplessly on the floor, propped up against the side of the bed. All I saw was her and not her surrounding, but all I needed to see was her to know something had snapped in her.

"Then, what does it look like?," I remember asking her. My voice cracked as I tried to say it, without breaking. It wasn't that I was trying to find the pain I felt in my chest from seeing her like this. It was that moment I realized, that she needed to be weak. I had to be strong for her. But, I was not strong enough.

The tears the I had tried to conceal, surfaced, burning my eyes, as I closed my eyelids tightly, feeling the tears roll down my face, dripping off my chin. When I had opened my eyes again, all that could have been seen was a blur. But it was good. It's sometimes good to not see everything clearly, because it hurts seeing pain and heartbreak so clearly, right in front of you, as you try so hard sometimes, failing to hide from it.

"I'm breaking Camila," she whispered, so quietly, but the words itself replayed in my head, very often, when I think about her, I remember she's breaking, "I feel things that I don't want you or the rest of the girls to feel. I'm living a life of pain and it only goes downhill from here until I reach a breaking point."

Those were the last words she said to me, before she got up from the position she was in, and closed the door in front of me. I stood there, for a few minutes, listening to her quiet sobs from the other side of the door the stood between us. She didn't answer my question, I needed to know. What did it look like? Because I wasn't so sure. All my mind focused on was the swelling of her eyes, turning puffy and red. Her lips, parted, trying to regain breath. Everything that surrounded the scenery of her was blurred and focused only on her.

To this day, I tried to looked back, and see the smaller details, from memory of that night, but all I saw was her. Even through her brokenness, I saw the beauty the shone on her translucent, porcelain skin. The only thing that disturbed my mind, was the way her eyes were dark, lost in pain, in despair and her brokenness. Her eyes were the color of a dark gray, a color I had not been privileged to see before in her eyes.

"Camzi?," she voice croaked out as she lifted the covers that laid on top of her, facing me, as I look down, at the white sheets that we laid on. She smiled at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, that had previously been covering my face. "You look so beautiful today." I felt my cheeks burn as she continued to stare at me, with such admiration in her eyes, it had hurt, to know this would all end. This never lasted. The love in her eyes, every time she looked at me, slowly starts to diminish, as it would be replaced with pain.

She treated me as if I'm a princess, at time like this. She would speed walk past me, just so she could get to the door first, to open it for me. She would kiss my forehead, and whisper a good night, even when she did not share a room with me. She would always ask how I felt at the moment, being able to sense abnormal emotions that occurred in me. It was like this for the days of the show that started everything, the memories itself of those happenings, that occurred so very often those days, would bring a sense of pain on my chest, because those days were no longer a reality for me.

"What's wrong Camz?," she questioned me, as her plump lips curled downward into a frown, her bottom lip poking out, forming an irresistible pout spread on her face. I shake my head, as a refusal to speak of my previous thoughts, and lay my head on her chest, where her heartbeat rung loudly in my ears. "Camz, don't hide things from me."

"But you do the same thing Lauren." I felt her breathing hitch from its normal rate, as I felt gaze fell upon my head now. I up look, uncovering my face from her chest, to see the hurt etched onto every feature of her face. Her eyes were that shade again, like that night, but not as intense, thankfully. The shade of dark green started to dim, as her lips curled to a frown.

"I-I don't know what you're taking a-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Lauren Jauregui," I said, a little too forcefully, causing her to wince at the increase of the volume in my suddenly confident voice, as she moved toward her edge of the bed, as if trying to get away from me, from the truth I spoke.

"I'm sorry Lo," I said calmer than before, reaching for her hand, only to have snatch her hand quickly, from my reach, fear in her eyes, as she started to step of the bed we had just slept quietly on.

"No, you're right," she said, walking out of the hotel room, "I should go."

 

 


	2. Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the beginning, she always seemed distant, but then again, she was a stranger to us, we all were to each other.

There was never such a thing as hearing too much of her. It takes a lifetime to learn of a person, hear their deepest secrets voiced out to you, experience the love that exudes from their aura as they feel the love never allowed themselves to feel before, the stories of their childhood revealed to you, as if all the stories were from a book, written on the happenings of their lives. You can never just grow accustomed to the way their nose scrunches in confusion, or the fits of laughter the erupts from their mouth, from corny jokes and terrible puns. But, it takes more than a lifetime to learn of Lauren Jauregui.

Lauren Jauregui is a beauty of nature. It would be a lie to say you have learned everything there is to learn about her. Her physical features bring up the questioning of any self esteem that any female had managed to bottle up. Her intellectual knowledge and words that fall so easily off the tip of her tongue, it would take someone of profound idiocracy to believe the 17 year old girl that now sits before me, with her porcelain legs crossed and her head dug into the pits of a book, was not wise nor intellectual.

It was her eyes, I believe, that had drawn me in, pulling me into a bottomless pit of more than just admiration for the older one. They brought a sense of mystery into my life, being unable to see beneath, what she had to hide. There were many things she hid from me, from the group, our minds oblivious to the thoughts that rushed in her head, unless she vocally spoke of them. We were concerned, all of us were, but nothing changed the guarded ways of her.

Or it could have been her hair, being praised in my thoughts, no matter the circumstance of how it looked. When straightened, it gave a diva look toward her, paired with her love for hats and the 90's. But I loved it the most when it was at its natural form. It exuded a sense of pureness, bringing her looks back to before I met her, when her looks may have not meant as much as they did now.

I never understood her, not completely. I knew of her favorite colors and her favorite artists. Her aspirations in life became written, etched into my mind, studied and memorized as if a test, on her life, were to be brought upon me, testing my knowledge of her. I knew all these things about her, but yet, I didn't know her at all.

I didn't know why I heard muffled sobs escape from her sometimes, when we shared a hotel room, at the times of darkness in my day where she thought the slumber spell had already casted upon me. I didn't know why sometimes she refused upon joining acts of being social or just being around us, choosing to hide away in her room, whenever the option was given to be alone. I knew she didn't want to be alone, it was a known fact for me. Though her body actions, in response to our invitation, say she was much rather isolate herself, her eyes begged for comfort, for closeness, for love.

"You don't know me," she spat at us once, when we finally questioned her refusal to attend social outing of the girls, once again, "You think you know me, but you don't. You know about as much as one of the fans do. You don't see what's going on, because if you do, you'll be scarred, traumatized. I hope you have fun at the club sucking guys faces out." With that, another door was closed on us.

From the beginning, she always seemed distant, but then again, she was a stranger to us, we all were to each other. It felt as if as our relationships with each other had built, her walls were breaking down, slowly, but they were still there too. Like a wall protecting a wall almost. We had put so much trust in each other, yet, she was still the only one who trusted herself, and herself only.

"Lauren," I had whispered one night, knowing the older girl was awake, her breathing uneven and rapidly fast to be sleeping peacefully, "Why do you do this to yourself?" I remember feeling her shift on her side of the bed, so she was facing me, was her hot breath singe my nose faintly. Once again, she tucked a loose strand of hair, that had covered my face, behind my ear.

"What do you mean, love?," she asked, her raspy tone sending light shivers down my spine, feeling the goosebumps rise from my skin. "Sometimes, I wish you saw what I saw in you." There it was again. I had to remind myself that it was, indeed, Lauren that laid beside me, caressing the skin of my cheek. But it doesn't feel like it, because just the week before, she was avoiding me, all of us actually. Then, just out of nowhere, she decided to sleep in the same bed as me, like we used to, when we had shared a hotel room, unlike the nights, prior the sudden burst of decision, where she would sleep on the floor.

"Why do you keep doing this?," I ask, my voice cracking at the sudden wave of emotions that had hit on my heart strings, feeling the familiar stinging feeling of the upcoming tears in my eyes, "You keep doing this to yourself. You keep pushing all of us away, a-and I'm tired of this. Is it because you think you're not worthy of this? You think someone can just replace you and our group would be the same? Do you think that it's okay to just isolate yourself from everyone? It's not. It's not okay. You're not okay."

She never gave a response that night. She just held me, as we each cried into each other's shoulders. I had choked on my tears several times as did she, but that did not stop her from holding me, like I was the most precious thing, I was so fragile, until the early hours of the morning when I woke up, without her by my side once again.

There were moments, she was hurting me too much , breaking me, and I knew I had to leave from this toxic idea of love I thought I would have with her, but as I try to, she just reals me back in with that smile, that weak, small, fragile small she never gave to anyone but me. Or her eyes, how they bore into me, encrypting the messages branded on my soul. But the worst was the way she would hold my hand. She held as if trying to protect me, to save me from danger, when I knew since day one that she was the one that needed saving. There was this unsettling feeling every time in the pits of my stomach as I watched her skip another meal, lock herself in her room.

I couldn't help her then, when she wouldn't even say a word to me, to any of us. I knew I couldn't save her, that I wasn't that important she would share her most darkest secrets, or just admit for once she's hurting, but I had this hope that she would one day. That she would accept the love I gave her, that she would remember she wasn't alone and didn't have the fight a battle by herself she couldn't win in the end. She knew it, that she couldn't do it on her own, but she refused to allow herself to believe that she was weak, because she wasn't capable of anything anymore. Or so I thought, because interpretations were all I had to base my knowledge on her, since she refused to say anything to me.

 


End file.
